


Uphill

by strifechaos



Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sentinel/Guide, Yuletide 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifechaos/pseuds/strifechaos
Summary: Guide Russ Agnew’s Sentinel partner was injured in the line of duty, his visits to the hospital to help bring Font from his Zone post-surgery lead to some unforeseen issues.Sentinel Milt Chamberlin has been in a Zone since the case where he lost an UC/CI. An unexpected Guide helps him recover.
Relationships: Russ Agnew/Milt Chamberlain
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Uphill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jedibuttercup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/gifts).



> Jedibuttercup: I hope this is an acceptable yuletide offering! I tried to keep your DNW in mind and bring some AU elements into the fandom but keep the characters true to themselves. 
> 
> This could be read as gen or pre-relationship. I didn’t see a strong indicator one way or another in your request so I wanted to keep it open. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part or characters of the Sentinel tv series or the Battle Creek tv series. This is all done in fun with no profit.

-0-0-0-

“It was supposed to be his last day before the wedding,” Russ hisses, his split knuckles stinging as his fists clench uselessly at his sides. Anywhere else and Kim knows he’d have thrown another punch at the wall, but Russ had been warned by Meredith that he was on thin ice in her hospital.

“I know, Russ,” Kim says, not trying to comfort but to let him know that he’s been heard. That he isn’t alone in worrying over Font.

She’s his Commander now but Kim has known Russ long enough to know he’s almost impossible to comfort at the best of times and while his partner is undergoing vital brain surgery isn’t the time to explain it wasn’t his fault. They all know that an accident like this could have happened on any case, it doesn’t make it easier to deal with when it happens to one of their own though, so even though Kim has never been the touchy feely type, probably why they’d worked so well together as partners before her promotion, she makes a point of acknowledging what he’s saying and more importantly what is going unsaid.

Her acknowledgment leads to a wave of pure self-disgust cresting Russ’ face, but far too familiar with her detective’s brand of petulance to let it stop her, the commander stays firm and presses on, though she has a brief moment of wishing she didn’t have to, that it was someone else’s job.

“It could have been any one of us; this isn’t because it was Font’s last day before the wedding, Russ.”

Russ swipes his palm over his mouth, gripping his face before pulling it back, fingers dragging back and forth over his lips. He slowly shakes his head, denying it.

“No.”

“Russ,” she warns.

He shakes his head more vehemently. “No, Guz. I should have seen it coming, or done something. Reacted faster. Anything. Something!”

“You’re only human, detective, what more could you have done?”

Russ flicks his wrist out, hand swatting at the air like a buzzing bee, batting away the logic his commander was trying to hammer home. “The hell is the point of being a Guide if I can’t even keep my Sentinel safe, huh?”

Kim exhales sharply. “You don’t think he feels the same way for you, Russ? You and Font have been partners a long time, the instinct to protect a Guide - - it’s powerful,” she struggles to explain, pauses briefly before settling on ‘powerful’ as the best way to get her message across.

Russ was a Guide, had been for longer than any of the other detectives in the Squad, but he would never fully grasp or appreciate the bone deep demand to keep his tribe safe, not like a fellow Sentinel would.

Kim had been online long enough to understand how Font’s instincts to protect his tribe – his Guide would top his own self-preservation. Every single time. 

“Well maybe if it had been a little less powerful, he wouldn’t be in this mess! He’s supposed to be getting married in three days, Guz. What’s his fiancé gonna feel when we tell her that Font’s in there because he had a powerful need to protect my worthless ass?”

“Proud.”

They both jerk apart, swinging in an almost comical fashion to face the figure that had just arrived in the Waiting Room. Katrina Rene, Font’s fiancée, wavered in the doorway, ashen and with tears threatening to spill down her expressive face.

“Katrina - -“ Kim started but Katrina jerkily shook her head and the Commander stopped.

She took a deep breath before trying to speak. “No, you’re wrong, I’m proud of Font, even if . . . even if he doesn’t make it, I would know he did his best. I know he would want to save you, Russ, even if it meant he couldn’t save himself.”

Kim and Russ closed the distance between them and Russ wrapped an arm around her shoulders, grounding her, holding her steady as she collapsed against his side.

Russ tucked his own issues with Font’s condition into a box and tried to be as solid as he could for her, strengthening his shielding and providing a compassionate ear for her. “It’s not gonna come to that, ok? He was joking on the way in, Katarina. He was talking and joking. He’s gonna . . . he’s gonna be fine. These doctors, they don’t know him, not like us, he’s strong.”

Katrina snuffled and bobbed her head in agreement. “Of course he is,” she agrees, choking back a sob.

Kim rests a hand on Katrina’s arm, briefly giving her a squeeze and exchanging a determined look with the other woman. “He is strong, and young and he has a beautiful bride waiting for him – Font will pull through. Just give him some time and he’ll show us all.”

Katrina shot her a grateful look, sparing a tiny nod for the commander.

Kim straightens up and locks eyes with her second.

“Russ, stay here, keep us updated on his condition, we’ll want to know the second he pulls through” Kim orders, sweeping out of the Waiting Room without giving him a chance to respond or demand to come. She knows he’s trying to be strong for his partner via Katrina, watching out for her like Font would if he were there, and until they have another update on Font’s odds Russ will be useless in the field. Distracted.

Determination burns like acid in Kim’s gut, before she’s back to her car she’s already on the phone with the office and handing out orders for her detectives and rallying the troops – one of their own is down, and she won’t rest until the bastard responsible is in cuffs.

-0-0-0-

In Russ’ experience, hospitals aren’t places for quiet or stillness, between the hustle and bustle of the medical staff helping patients and completing rounds, there’s also the janitorial staff and paper pushers running around trying to micromanage the healers. 

People yelling out in pain from broken bodies or excitement at welcoming a new life into the family, the soul wrenching howls of those that have lost all hope of a family member’s recovery – the machines alarming with patients’ stats and pages constantly blitzing across the speakers throughout the hospital’s hallways.

He’s only dealing with a normal range of senses as a Guide, and it’s still disorienting.

The point being – they are very loud, smelly places. With one exception-- the Guide and Sentinel Unit.

There the funding allowed for extra measures to counteract the far reaching and extremely sensitive senses of those gifted with Sentinel abilities. There sound dampers are strategically placed to cancel out the noise from the rest of humanity fighting for life and battling death. The wing isn’t large; guides make up such a small percentage of the population and sentinels even less than that but Detroit is a major enough city that the hospital funding ensured that any injured sentinels or guides are brought directly to Mercy North.

The S&G Unit requires sentinel specific protocols be followed, and the rigorous hoops that the Centre have in regards to medical care for them have made it a specialization. Though it has been centuries since sentinels had been regarded as Protectors of the Tribe, when the media catch wind of an injured one it leads to a couple weeks of rehashing the best and worst examples in history of sentinel and guide events. Depending on the paper, website or station the reports often praise or roast the S&G partnerships.

After crossing through from the general entrance and making his way to the solitude of the S&G unit, the sudden lack of overwhelming bleach and blaring pages is a relief. Russ signs in at the desk, nodding to the nurse on duty before ducking back toward Font’s room.

“Guide Agnew!” a voice shouts out, grabbing his attention.

Russ stops and his head swivels in the direction of his name. Holly Dale, a young nurse and Guide, is stepping quickly toward him. He waits for the younger woman to reach him before returning the greeting.

“The doctor’s moved your Sentinel, he’s been discharged from the Short-Term and placed in the Long-term wing,” she explains, a hint of regret coloring her tone.

Russ bites back the urge to attack the messenger, it’s not like Holly was responsible for the coma Font had ended up in after his surgery. Though the surgeons and docs had classified it as Sentinel Fatigue, or a Zone, Russ has been spending any time not at work haunting his partner’s room in the ICU and then the Short-Term branch, but there hadn’t been much improvement in Font’s condition. Katrina had been trading shifts with him, watching over the man that had become so important in both their lives.

Nibbling at his bottom lip, Russ struggles to find the words for a response.

“So. . . so they, they don’t think . . .”

Holly steps in as he trails off, quick to intercede, “No! No, nothing like that, just . . . it’s taking a little longer than they’d like. The Long-Term facility had resources that will better be able to help keep him comfortable while we work to return him from the Zone.”

Russ nods, not buying it but wanting to with a desperation that feels out of character.

“Sure, yeah, right . . . can you . . . can you show me where they moved him?”

Holly agrees, flagging down one of her co-workers to tell her where she’ll be to and to page her if she’s needed before she returns.

-0-0-0-

The room is bigger than the one they’d kept Font in during his stay in Short-Term but he also doesn’t have the room to himself.

There’s a second bed in the room occupied by a tall, thin man in his late 30’s, dark brown hair and handsome features, though slack and given that he’s hooked up to a similar setup of machines as Font, the man isn’t part of the waking world.

“How’s . . . how’s he been doing today?”

Holly winces, straightening out the lightweight blanket that had been tucked around Font’s chest, taking longer than the task calls for in an unsubtle tactic to delay answering. One that Russ would have noticed even if he hadn’t been a detective.

“The same as yesterday,” she admits at last when the blanket is as straight as it’s going to get, she glances up to meet Russ’ eyes before quickly looking back to Font, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“And they think this Long-Term storage is gonna help more than the other room because . . .?”

Looking distressed at the question, Holly’s gaze dipped from Font to her crocs. “Dr. Oberling is confident that given enough time, Mr. White will recover sufficiently enough that as his Guide you’ll be able to pull him from the Zone, Russ.”

Russ sighs. It’s the same message the hospital had been pumping out since the swelling in Font’s brain had gone down after the initial surgery. His partner’s stats had continued improved but not enough that he’d actually woken up afterward.

The tried and true methods of walking a Sentinel back from a Zone had all been tried, by Russ and stronger Guides, they’d even tried a few of the shortcuts Russ had developed after working with Font over the years. Niblet and Aaron, the other two Guides in the Detective Squad had also come in and worked through the methods with Font.

“Why’s he here?” Russ asked, jerking his chin toward the other patient, another Sentinel if the “S” clipped onto the edge of his bed was an indicator.

Holly bites her bottom lip nervously, twisting her fingers in the bottom of her scrub top, a deep pink today that flatters her skin tone. “I . . . uh I’m not sure I can say,” she equivocates, but no doubt feeling guilty of the lack of good news she has about Font, she spills after a few moments pause, “Just that he’s a Sentinel that Zoned and the Centre has been sending in some specialists to help bring him out.”

She shrugs her shoulders and Russ gives her a curious look. “It’s not a problem for another sentinel to be so close to Font while he’s taking a spirit walk?”

Holly seems to bounce back, “No, if either one of them were aware enough of the other it’d be a miracle.”

She blanches a second after the words have left her lips but the feeling of his guts behind yanked out from his navel keeps Russ from offering the nurse any comforting words.

“Oh, no – Russ, it’s not, I’m not trying to say . . . that is . . . there’ still hope.”

He blames his mouth being dry and the fact that his tongue has obviously swollen up from the lack of humidity in the room for the short response he offers. “Yeah, right.”

His tone is curter than he’d meant for it to be but he can’t find it in himself to regret it enough to say anything further.

Sentinels were well documented as being incredible territorial, that they would stash two in the same room when they were at such a weakened state led Russ to believe that despite the party line the medical staff were hocking, there wasn’t any real hope left that his partner would recover.

“Sorry, Russ,” she murmurs, reaching out to gentle lay a hand on his shoulder for a second before backing up and heading toward the door. “I should head back, but if you need anything just have a nurse page me, ok?”

He mechanically gives her a nod of thanks, pulls the chair next to Font’s bed a little closer and collapses into it as if his strings have been cut.

-0-0-0-

“And then Jacocks cold cocked the bastard, knocked him flat out, the sonuvabitch wouldn’t admit to a lady a third his size being able to do it, so the ADA figures she’s in the clear but Guz had her attending an Anger Management seminar once a week to appease any rumblings that my crop up.” Russ expounds on the exploits of the department, running comb to the beard cover his partner’s chin.

The combination of an auditory cue and the tactile sensation from the comb is a long bet. Though Font’s senses are beyond the average human, he’s only registered at a Level 5 for his sense of eyesight. Unfortunately, given the coma, the anti-zone tricks they’ve developed for sight are useless.

Russ glances up at the door, sparing a smile and nod for Holly as she comes in, though they quickly turn to a scowl when he spots Meredith behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Meredith demands rudely as she reaches up to take the chart off the bed by Font’s roommate.

Putting the comb down on the bedside table, Russ scoffs, well used to the adversarial relationship with the doctor. Since not many specialized in S&G cases and Russ had rotten luck, he was well acquainted with Dr. Oberling. “I could ask you the same thing!”

They didn’t get along.

Meredith rolls her eyes, loudly. “I work here, dummy.”

Holly sends him an apologetic look in both their directions. “I mentioned to Dr. Oberling, that you normally come and work with Font about this time every day.”

Meredith freezes, eyes no longer scanning the chart in front of her but zeroed in on the nurse.

“He comes every day – at the same time?”

“He is IN the room! You could just ask me,” Russ interjects.

Meredith ignores him but Holly fidgets anxiously before answering. “Yes, I mean, I think so. I’m not sure about my off days but Russ is always comes in at the start of my first break . . .”

Russ rolls his eyes, aggravated by the doctor. “Yeah, I stop in to see Font every day at about the same time – what’s it to you, short-stack?”

“What it is to me, you dumpster fire, is a factor we hadn’t accounted for in the change of our patient’s stats.”

Russ jerks up from the seat next to Font’s bed, pointing an accusing finger at Holly. “You said Font’s condition hadn’t changed.”

She gives him a deer in the headlights look but before Russ can do or say anything more, Meredith huffs, drawing his ire. “That’s because HE isn’t the patient whose been improving by your presence, dumbass.”

Russ shakes his head, not following. “What? What are you talking about? I only come in to see Font, who else could benefit from that?”

“WHO I’m talking about is Special Agent Milton Chamberlin, Sentinel.”

The name means nothing to Russ, but his continued blank look eventually forces Holly to step in and explain.

“Font’s roommate, Russ. The other sentinel, is from the Detroit branch of the FBI.”

“Sentinel Chamberlin’s strongest senses are hearing and scent, so your smelly ass and horrid voice have likely registered to him. His levels show strong indicators of recovering from his zone, but only for a few hours every day,” Meredith explains, pointedly adding. “Notably during the time of your visits with Font.”

Russ feels like his chest is about to explode.

“Could you keep it down, please? I have to the worst headache.”

Russ curses. Holly faints. Meredith buzzes for a flock of nurses to assist.

-0-0-0-

Despite his best efforts to remain apart from the Centre, the controlling faction that runs herd over Sentinels and Guides in North America, won’t be denied.

“This is bullshit, Guz! I am THIS close to closing the case,” Russ says, pinching his thumb and pointer finger together to illustrate just how close the case was to being solved, which his Commander would appreciate a lot more if it also weren’t about two-inches from her face.

Sending him a stern glare, Kim slowly moves his arm away from her with the back of her own hand against his forearm, her eyebrows climbing her forehead in a display of her firm disapproval for this hissy-fit.

“Russ, the progress with this sentinel’s recovery is a higher priority.”

“But—“ He starts to interrupt but immediately halts when Kim sends him a pinched look.

“The Centre is aware of the impact your presence has had on Sentinel Chamberlin, the Director of the Detroit branch called the Chief personally, they want you back at the hospital.”

“I don’t need to be at the hospital, I just need a few hours with this case and then I’ll go after work, like usual. If I can just get Muniz on the phone I’m positive– “

“That’s great, I’m sure he’ll be able to answer the phone as easily for you as for Niblet.”

“You’re telling me that Justice is going to wait because the Centre is so ass backwards that they require indentured servitude in perpetuity from a bunch of people that lost the genetic lotto?!”

Kim’s lips pursed and Russ struggles with backtracking, she’s pissed enough that she lets him for a few seconds.

“What if it were Font?”

The question guts him.

“Yeah, ok, fine. I’ll let Niblet know and then I’ll head to the hospital.”

She settles back further in her desk chair, the old equipment giving a creak and groan at the movement, despite the relatively sedative energy deployed by her actions, she rested her palms flat on the desk, fingers splayed. She looked down at her nails and took a breath, reminding herself that Russ was her best detective because of his tenacious attitude, despite how it was also one of his worst traits in his personal life

“The Centre is aware of the time you’re logging in with Font, working toward getting him back from the Zone but the success of the technique with Sentinel Chamberlin means they want to try a more targeted approach, I’ve been given the go ahead to allow you the time required to do as the doctor’s asked – for a few days. Then we’ll revisit what’s going on before proceeding.”

“They can’t seriously believe that this guy is –“

Kim holds up a hand, nodding to show she understands the direction his comment was taking and stopping him. “The likelihood is very slim that a Sentinel and Guide pair meet, even in this day and age with how far reaching the Centre’s hold is on all registered sentinels and guides; but this guy has some far reaching pull and his people want confirmation one way or another. Apparently they’ve put this guy through the ringer when it comes to available Guides, but they haven’t had the slightest blip in his stats.”

Russ snorts. “The Centre is always slobbering over the chance of a Ellison-Samberg partnership developing – just because this guy is finally done walking his spirit dog or crow or whatever and is ready to wake up, doesn’t mean we have some sort of cosmic bond, Guz.”

She smirks, “Russ, I know you better than most, the likelihood is slim but until the Centre has a solid answer one way or another, your ass is in a sling, so head to the hospital perform whatever techniques they want you to and get back here so we can close some cases. We’re already down a detective, half of my best two – I don’t need both of you out.”

Guilt robs him of any response, and Russ stands up from the office chair, limbs heavy.

-0-0-0-

Though the stereotype had long been proven false, there were still those out there that romanticized the idea of a Sentinel having a One True Guide, and vice versa. Growing up with a mother like Candice, Russ had a more realistic or jaded view on trope. He’d seen his mom play the role of a gullible Sentinel’s ‘One True Guide’, most unaware of the statistically improbability of such a meeting or willing to overlook it due to his mother’s skills as a con.

When his results had come back in junior year of high school, resulting in him having to go to the DMV for a new driver’s license that included a small but noticeable ‘G’ printed on the bottom corner of his picture, identifying him as the tiny fraction of the population that had Guide abilities had left him as anything but jubilant. The poetry he’d written in school had taken a turn from the happy, hopeful outlook he’d cultivated despite his mother’s worst intentions.

The police academy hadn’t been a picnic, not with assholes like Pritchett that took issue with ‘freaks of nature’, using every loophole he could to keep Russ from getting ahead in his field. That Font only had a singular sense enhancement by the Centre’s standard, Sentinel Level 5 eye sight meant that they didn’t keep as stringent control of Font, and by connection, Russ.

-0-0-0-

When Russ arrives at the hospital, the nurse at the desk directs him to a different section of the S&G wing than where Font and Chamberlin had been rooming. This is apparently where more extensive testing for Sentinels takes place, Russ isn’t eager to learn more; instead he’s swept with a wave of dread.

In his experience, it was never a good outcome for him when the Centre wanted to get more heavily involved in his life.

He wasn’t wrong.

-0-0-0-

Three Months Later

“I mean it, Russ, you’re going to have to find a way to make this work with Milt.”

Barely waiting until she’s finished speaking, he immediately interjects.

“Even though you agree that this is fucked up?”

Russ points at her, pinky and pointer finger extended as he leans forward from his chair so that his weight is balanced more on the balls of his feet, as if he was about to spring up. It reminds her of Danny as a teenager - - so full of energy and ready to charge off at the drop of a pin.

Kim takes a moment to reply, letting him stew as she slowly breaths in through her nose and holding it for a few beats and letting it out in a slow steady stream. It’s a stalling technique so she can hold back the instinctive response to her subordinate’s impetus demand.

They’d been partners not so many long years ago, so it’s the only tell Russ needed to see for him to pick up that she agreed with him, it was fishy that the Centre would station Sentinel Milt Chamberlin with an entire satellite FBI office installed in Battle Creek instead of just relocating Russ to Detroit.

It wasn’t normal operating procedure for the Feds to exile one of their young, elite Sentinels from a well to do family to the middle of nowhere, not after just getting him back from a three-month Zone.

Kim and Russ both knew something else was in play here but given the Detectives Unit’s position in the pecking order, she didn’t have anywhere near enough clout to fuss over the resources the FBI and Centre were allocating for her Detective’s Squad.

“All I can say is that we have an asset for our cases that previously would have never been offered to the Battle City Police Department, we should be grateful and take advantage of the opportunity while we can,” Kim says at last, no need to give Russ too much rope by her silent agreement on the federal Sentinel’s presence being unusual.

“Aha! So you don’t think he’s here long term either? That this is some sort of punishment for him.” Russ instantly glommed onto the last part of her sentence. “Makes you wonder what the hell he did that the feebs would kick one of their special elites to the curb, given the poor bastard just woke up from a three month nap!”

Kim can already feel the oncoming headache pricking at her temples. She tries to leash his enthusiasm for poking at the situation, ever since his presence had a noticeable effect on the Sentinel, she swears every other sentence she hears from her Lead Detective had been about the fed. It had taken her a while to realize that his complaints about Milt weren’t as barbed as they’d first been.

They’d shared a few close calls, including being locked in a trunk together and each closed case had led to less true grumblings about the Special Agent and more statements of grudging respect. Kim would be lying if she denied the existence of a bet amongst the BCPD on when the two would catch a clue.

Still she lets him play out his suspicions about the Sentinel. “Setting up an office in Battle Creek is strange but it’s hardly kicking him to the curb, given the resources he’s already shown to have at his disposal I think it’s clear that he’s still considered an upstanding member of both the F.B.I. and a full-fledged Sentinel with the Centre.”

Russ lets out a dismissive noise and bats at the air as if he could erase her statement. “The top brass wouldn’t allow for one of their pets to be stationed at such a low priority location without reason, and the only reason that makes any sense is that it’s a punishment for something.” He slumps back in the chair, throwing an arm out in the direction of the office across the hall, pointing haphazardly toward Milt’s office. “Besides, the Centre’s been switching out the Guide sitting at the secretary desk every other week, on the dot. That isn’t how the Centre operates.”

Kim briefly spares a moment to wonder if she should be more concerned that she hadn’t noticed or that Russ apparently had. They walk pass the office every day but Kim hadn’t realized that the changing out of the secretaries had been so routine, it makes her question just how close a watch the Guide was keeping on his Sentinel partner.

She trust Russ’ instincts, he’d more than earned it over the years but their cases weren’t going to close themselves, so she prods him with the question he was looking for. “So?”

The chair creaked in despair as Russ suddenly threw himself forward again “So? Whaddya mean by that? So how can we work with this guy? You’re just going to accept some strange Sentinel into our territory?”

“Easily, accept the help and resources to solve our cases and leave it at that, Russ you know the job – which as a reminder is NOT questioning my every command decision, detective. Milt is helping you close cases, correct?”

The mulish expression doesn’t leave Russ’ face, and her hopes of the headache that’s been throbbing at her temples all morning is ever present but she doesn’t kick him out just yet. He’s a spider’s thread away from it though.

“How can you expect me to trust him to have my back when he won’t even divulge what he did to get stuck in that Zone in the first place?”

Kim lets out a gusty sigh.

“First off you don’t even know if the Zone that had him out for so long was his fault or part of a case. Besides, it might not be a punishment, sentinels aren’t the only territorial part of the equation when it comes to S&G forces; Guides can be pretty touchy about one another as well. His placement here could be to help him regain his confidence. A city like Detroit is fast and rough, Battle Creek is a little more sedate and works at giving him a chance to get his feet under himself first.”

Russ snorted, fidgeting in the seat and clearly not buying what she was saying but Kim’s patience for Russ has run out. “Well until you have solid proof about what drove Milt to working here, I guess you’ll just have to use your senses to get a better lock on him; now the Jefferson’s case isn’t going to solve itself, so why don’t you go run down your leads with Milt instead of complaining about him?”

A few more complaints and dramatic comments were aired before Kim was able to shoo him from her office completely, but a reminder of the victims was enough to get Russ moving. While he wasn’t considered a strong Guide, Russ’ sense of protecting his ‘tribe’ was well developed and had led to him running himself into the ground trying to solve cases on more than one occasion.

Her office once more to herself, Kim can ponder Milt’s relocation without Russ distracting her. She’ll admit that a Sentinel of Milt’s strength and charisma shouldn’t have been stationed in a small town like Battle Creek, the only plausible excuse that came to mind what that he’d fucked up a case or pissed one of his boss’s off bad enough to face the extent of their wrath, somewhat limited when it came to their elite agents but still enough to drive the point home. He’d been disavowed from the Detroit Tribe, and if Russ was right about the constant switching out of Guides, the Centre was up to something.

She’d been sure that she’d lose Russ from her Squad when the Centre found out he’d been able to unintentionally wake a Sentinel from a Zone without even trying. Font’s condition had slowly gotten better, but he hadn’t made the leaps and bounds that Milt had with Russ’ daily visits.

When the FBI agent had recovered to the point of being discharged from the hospital, the Centre had swooped in and reclaimed Milt. Kim would be lying is she said she hadn’t been waiting for a call from the Centre that Russ had been transferred out of Battle Creek and relocated to Milt’s assignment.

Russ might not believe that a Sentinel and Guide could have a true bond, but Kim had also never heard of such a strong reaction from a Sentinel to a nearby Guide. The Centre would be foolish not to look further into the partnership that could develop between the two, but between a police detective and a federal agent, Kim was well aware what agency had more pull. That the Detroit FBI branch would allow for the setup of a satellite office in Battle Creek was odd, it made Kim wonder just who Chamberlin’s parents were and what level of connections they must have in the Centre and politics for such a sudden allotment of resources to make so quickly.

It doesn’t change what she told Russ though. As long as Milt was here, for however long the Centre kept up with whatever game they were playing, her detectives needed to take advantage of the resources brought to the table. She was all too aware of how often the winds shifted when it came to the political handlings of agencies--soon enough someone would mess up worse than Milt had or his supervisor would move on and the Detroit branch would forget why they had transferred the young Sentinel in the first place.

Someone as good at playing the game as Milt would be back in the good graces of the Detroit office, it was only a question of when; and Kim had very little hope that the pipeline to the federal aids would continue once he’d left.

Despite what Russ’ gut said, it was a smarter move to keep her Detective Squad working on closing as many cases as they could in the meantime. Even if Russ belly ached about being assigned partner to the cagey Sentinel, keeping her best detective tethered to the agent would give them the best chance of catching any misstep that would hint at what had led to Milt being in her city.

As the Commander of the Detective Squad, it was her responsibility to her tribe to keep her people safe.

If in her scant free time puzzled at what had happened in Milt Chamberlin’s life to drive the FBI Sentinel to seeking admittance to her tribe, well that was her own business.

-0-0-0-

Six Months Later

“You know, Russ, you aren’t like any Guide I’ve met before,” Milt says, sneaking a glance over at the detective slouched in his passenger seat before looking back toward the road for traffic. Milt can see a spike of annoyance fall over Russ’ face, no need for micro expressions with Russ, and Milt can admit to himself that he’d oddly thrilled by the open display of emotions that his reluctant partner shares with him.

While it’s true that most Guides have an intuitive nature, typically labeled as being ‘empathic’, Milt thinks of his abilities as a Sentinel have given him a pretty good way of reading a room. Russ tended to be so expressive that it was easy to forget that he didn’t know the man that well, and in the short months they’d worked together, he still often found himself surprised by Russ.

In his experience with Guides remaining calm and projecting positive emotions and expecting the best led toward more positive results.

This was hardly foolproof, but despite Russ’ negative reaction when he’d shared part of this theory with him on their first case together, he still tried to project a happy and calm façade when dealing with people, especially the public.

When they’d first starting working together, he’d shared more glimpses of his true feelings with Russ than he’d intended, the Guide’s constant needling of his motives providing the occasional slip, and while it aggravated Milt he would admit that the challenge drove him to get out of bed more readily after his initial recovery from that fateful Zone.

One of the things that Milt admired about Russ was that he didn’t shield his reactions.

Most people, once they clocked the stylized ‘S’ pinned to his suit, would struggle to shutter their reactions, it almost never worked unless they’d undergone official training for it, but outside of his little cons to get to understand Milt – Russ didn’t try to hide himself away. Not the way his mother had once he’d come online.

“Why because I’m not falling at your feet, trying to impress the federal Sentinel? Grateful that you grace the unwashed masses with your presence?” Russ scoffed, pointedly tucking himself as far as he can manage from Milt, in the limited confines of the SUV. Which admittedly, isn’t much but it drives the point home more than anything, Russ is here under duress and it’s up to Milt to sooth the Guide’s ruffled feathers.

Milt presses his lips together to keep from fueling Russ’ ire. It’s true that most people were desperate to get close to Milt and that what had initially piqued his interested about Russ was that he was so abhorrently against working with Milt. One of the Guide’s first statements to him about him being ‘good looking’ and that allowing for most people to ignore his character faults wasn’t far off the mark.

Despite his distrust, Russ’s dogged attempts to get to understand Milt surprised him.

In truth, most of the Guides that Milt worked with started out thrilled to try their best at helping Sentinel that was attractive as Milt-- until Milt’s drive to solve a cases led to Guide Fatigue, relying on them to level out his senses and provide a steady base for days, sometimes weeks, as he worked to solve cases – it burned them out without a reciprocal bond. The allure of a top level Sentinel with Milt’s looks soon lost their draw when they came to understand that though Milt was an extremely powerful Sentinel, the one area he wasn’t proficient in was the deal breaker for them-- he couldn’t offer a bond.

While a Guide could provide shielding for a Sentinel and help them track the uses of their senses – provide a shelter when they’d overtaxed themselves, without an established bond, a Guide had no reciprocation for that output without a bond in place.

While he worked in Detroit, it hadn’t been an issue. The unit had a good mix of Guides that were trained to provide assistance for the until, able to rotate the duties to provide a safe space for Sentinel’s senses without a bond; out in Battle Creek the Centre had to station a Guide in his office specifically to assist him but so far all the Guides had submitted transfers and left within two weeks of being stationed.

A combination of Fatigue, homesickness, the reality of living in a small town instead of Detroit - - the excuses varied but the result was the same, Milt was a Sentinel without a Guide or a tribe.

Where Russ differed from the other Guides was that he seemed to be just as driven to solve a case, even when it required great personal expense. It was one of the more refreshing aspects of the partnership. Milt was well aware that Russ was still extremely upset about his previous partner’s extended health leave.

Though Sentinel White had been able to eventually recover enough to leave his Zone, and get married to his patient fiancé, his physical therapy was progressing slowly and he wouldn’t likely be back in the field for several more months.

That it left Russ as Milt’s defacto partner in the meanwhile, was a fact that aggravated Russ and caused guilt in equal measure. Milt had tried to avoid the office as much as possible, in hopes of staying away from any latent triggers or memories it would hold for his Guide but Russ had accused him of trying to Stockholm him after the third day, so he’d stopped; though he made a point to not go near Font’s desk or ‘territory’ in the Detective’s office.

Circling back to the sneering question the Guide had asked, Milt made sure to give him a blinding smile.

“No, Russ, I don’t mind your hygiene,” Milt says, tucking the amusement he finds at deliberately misinterpreting what the Guide said about the ‘unwashed masses’ behind his shields so that the Guide wouldn’t pick up on it.

They didn’t share anything beyond a fledgling bond, and that was more due to having to rely on one another in a few tight situations than actual interest since Russ was still platonically pining over his former partner and not willing to even consider a permanent bond with Milt but that a fledgling one had developed spoke volumes of the compatibility, and that did interest Milt.

He’d never had even a fledgling bond take root with a Guide and the Centre had desperately tried for one with a host of Guides at their disposal during his Zone after the Case. Milt wasn’t sure what it said about him that he one Guide he’d been able to form a bond with was the one person who had taken one look at him and instantly developed a mistrust of his every move. It didn’t stop him from trying to court Russ. Their compatibility was undeniable – though that’s all Russ seemed willing to do, deny it.

Milt didn’t mind Russ’ smell, though he’d found that most non-Sentinels were touchy whenever he mentioned anything involving them and what he could detect beyond what a ‘normal’ person could figure out. So he kept his appreciation for the detective’s scent to himself.

“Though perhaps a shower wouldn’t go amiss, Mrs. Greer did get you pretty good with her compost.”

Russ scowls. “Well I wouldn’t reek like trash if you’d have listened to me about helping her with her flowers in the first place. I thought you were supposed to be a Sentinel, not a gardener.”

Milt shoots his partner a look like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I consider outreaches to the community I good use of my talents.”

“Yeah, because you’re never the one that gets covered in fertilizer, are you, Milt?”

He offers the Guide a shrug, admittedly he’d been distracted by something Russ was saying at the time, and hadn’t been able to react fast enough to catch the older woman and pull Russ out of the trajectory of the flying compost bucket.

The detective’s mood had tanked, already against helping the woman unload her gardening supplies to begin with, the layer of rotting vegetable clippings had only heaped fuel onto his fiery temper.

With so much of their work taking place inside, Milt may have milked the situation a bit to extend the time in nature. He debates with whether admitting that will set Russ off, and if the tantrum that follows will be entertaining or annoying.

He’s not sure yet but he’s willing to stick it out, see just where their slowly building trust in one another would eventually grow their bond.

Milt had never been afraid of putting in the work to get what he wanted, and convincing Russ Agnew to accept being his Guide was the first thing he’d wanted in years.

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The End  
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End file.
